We're All Adults Here
by Sarah1281
Summary: When faced with the prospect of being parted forever when Valjean takes Cosette to England, she and Marius realize that they have nothing left to lose and decide to do the unthinkable: actually tell Valjean about their love and hope that he will be kind and allow them to stay together. After all, it's not like he isn't *already* going to forcibly part them.


We're All Adults Here

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

Note: I can understand why they refused to tell Valjean about their love at first but when they get to the point where they will never see each other again and Marius is getting suicidal, they really have nothing to lose, do they?

Marius knew that Cosette was not happy with his refusal to tell her what his plan was and why he was not going to see her during one of the two opportunities that, if they could not change things, they would ever have to be together. If he were in her place he would not be taking the seemingly arbitrary silence nearly so well.

It wasn't that he wanted to keep secrets from his beloved Cosette but how could he tell her? How could he offer her hope that they might have a future together after all when he was far from sure? It was far better to leave her without hope and maybe surprise her than to dangle a future in front of her only to cruelly yank it away at the last moment. He had not spoken to his grandfather in five years and, to his knowledge, the older man had made no effort to contact him.

He had never been a sentimental man and Marius had never gotten the feeling that his grandfather had liked him all that much. Not to mention that he had already proven just how serious he took his politics when throwing Marius' father out of his life and who threw someone's father out of their life anyway, especially if they cared for either party at all? But it had been five years and that might have been time enough for tempers to cool. He was certainly no longer angry just…unable to make sense of any of it. And he did have all of that money that his aunt continued to send to give him hope as the money just kept coming despite the fact he regularly sent it back.

Cosette had stopped crying at some point and a determined look came into her eyes. "I have a plan, too, Marius."

Marius drew back, surprised. "You do? Oh, that's wonderful." He hoped it would be a better plan than his and he couldn't see how it could fail to be.

Cosette hesitated. "This is…not something I'm suggesting lightly but the worst that could happen is what we're already facing."

Marius moved closer to her and took her hand. "I'm listening."

Cosette took a deep breath and then looked him straight in the eye. "Marius, I think we need to tell my father."

Marius jerked and tried to pull his hand away. "What? But we can't!"

"I understand, I do," Cosette said, refusing to let go of him. "But what choice do we have? I know that you feared that Papa would part us but we are already going to be parted. If he chooses to separate us because of this then what difference does it make? We are already going to be parted!"

Marius nodded reluctantly, conceding the point. "But then what is the point of telling him then?"

"You don't know my father the way that I do," Cosette said earnestly. "You've never even spoken to him. And while I know he would not approve of me not telling him about you or of us sneaking out into the garden unchaperoned at night, he would not want to break my heart."

"What about when he stopped taking you to the Luxembourg?" Marius challenged.

"We do not know that that even had anything to do with you at all," Cosette said reasonably. "And if it did, he could only have been thinking to prevent me from forming an attachment to a stranger or saving me from seemingly unwelcome attention. He never thought it would hurt me as much as it did."

Marius remained unconvinced.

"You should have seen how hard he tried to help me!" Cosette exclaimed. "He is always so good to me. I felt so guilty for being upset when he put all his energy into making me smile again. He even took me back to the Luxembourg but you were no longer there. I do not know why we are to go to England but it may not be urgent. As far as my father knows, I have no reason to want to stay. And if it is urgent, perhaps he can help you come with us. The reason you gave for not following us was money. I do not know how much money we have but we have always had enough for what I need. It is worth trying, at least."

Marius had never actually _met _Cosette's father but he had grown used to thinking of him as an obstacle to his happiness with Cosette (who had some sort of police issues) and so this man that Cosette was speaking of was a stranger. But she did know him better, didn't she?

"Are you sure?"

Cosette hesitated briefly. "I hope so."

Another memory came to mind then, Monsieur Fauchelevent giving the blackguards that kidnapped him a fake address, even knowing what it could cost him, so they could not get anywhere near Cosette. He had literally _branded himself _with a poker iron to show his determination to keep her safe, no matter the cost to him.

Marius could respect – and fear – that and hope that he would be as strong if it were him called upon to protect Cosette. It was more than his grandfather would ever be willing to do for him. And perhaps her father had just panicked at the thought, however illogical, of being mistaken for one of those criminals. Or perhaps he found himself unable to stand another moment of that situation and wanted to be away from there and back to Cosette without having to go with the police to give a statement. This way, too, he might have been able to keep the knowledge from Cosette so as not to worry her after it was over.

"What would you have me do?"

Cosette brightened at his willingness to try her plan. "I will talk to Papa tomorrow morning. I know that you will be busy tomorrow night but could you come at eleven o'clock? That should give me enough time to tell him and get him ready to meet you."

If this went well, he might not have to go crawling back to his grandfather after all.

He kissed her hand and she blushed so prettily that he started feeling a lot better about this plan.

* * *

Cosette hadn't thought she would be able to sleep at all but she forced herself to try since this was no doubt going to be an exhausting day no matter how well or poorly things worked out.

She was feeling much more cheerful and optimistic this morning than she had been when she had first heard that they were moving. She had felt so helpless and lost then and now, at least, she had some idea of what to do.

And now that she was feeling a little bit better, she noticed how uneasy he seemed.

"Papa," she said at breakfast, "are you alright?"

Her father looked at her in surprise. "Of course I am; why do you ask?"

"You just seem a little anxious," Cosette replied. "And I would have you at peace."

He smiled at that. "I know, my child. It is just that it is not every day that one leaves the country of their birth for a distant sea. If I had not been so…reluctant then I might have gone years ago."

"I don't speak English," Cosette pointed out. Marius did. Marius made a living translating English into French.

"I have been learning it for a few years now," her father told her. "Just in case, though I have not had a chance to speak it to others, I can read it tolerably."

She did feel a little better about that, then, if they still had to go but she was rather counting on them not going.

"You will learn English soon enough, Cosette," her father assured her. "You are very bright and I will help you."

Cosette managed a smile. "Thank you."

"You will like England, I think," her father said. "It is far more stable. They have not had a civil war in two centuries and the people are content enough with their government. Things are much safer."

"Safe is good," Cosette agreed. "Is it really so unsafe here?"

"When I have been out walking these past few weeks I have seen an increase in…unrest," he responded. "It is getting worse."

"Is that why you want to leave?" Cosette asked.

"Partially," her father said, nodding. "What kind of a life is it when you can't feel safe?"

"I have always felt safe," Cosette said confidently. Or at least…her early childhood was a mystery she did not care to delve into but one of the impressions she got from back then was that she wasn't safe. She felt nothing like that now.

Her father smiled again and that was a good sign.

"I do not know the nature of your business or how urgent it is or if we will be coming back," Cosette began carefully. "But I need to be honest with you."

Her father froze and an almost panicked look came into his eyes. She wondered what he was worried about. She hoped it was not what she was about to tell him. "Have you not been honest with me, my child?"

"I haven't _lied_," Cosette insisted fervently. "I just really do not wish to go and I need you to know why. Even if we still have to go, I need you to know."

Her father gave no outward sign of reaction. "There is a boy."

Cosette's glance automatically dropped to the table before she forced herself to meet her father's eye. "Yes there is a boy and his name is Marius Pontmercy."

Her father said nothing.

"I know this is not what you were expecting to hear and I never meant for it to happen. When I first saw him, we had never spoken and it did not feel like there was anything to tell. Then I lost contact with him and he was not even there so there was nothing to tell. But he loved me, Papa, he really loved me. He loved me so much that no matter how many months passed, he could not forget me and he managed to find me. Now there _is_ something to tell."

She waited anxiously for his reaction and eventually he nodded silently to show that he was listening.

She wished that she could tell what he was thinking but, either way, she could not stop now.

"He loves me, Papa," she said again, "he really does. I have been well-warned about young men with mischief on their minds." Though no one seemed to be willing to elaborate on what that even meant. "But the time and energy he poured into simply _learning my name _means that Marius just cannot be like that. And…" This part was harder. "I love him, too, Papa."

"You love him?" her father repeated, sounding a little odd.

"I do," Cosette confirmed, quite unable to fight the smile playing on her lips at finally – _finally! _– being able to share this life-changing news with her father. "He makes me so happy, Papa. He's sweet and kind and so fascinating. And he thinks I'm wonderful. We can just sit looking at each other for hours and we never run out of things to talk about. And if you say that I have to leave him, I do not know how I can survive that. It was hard enough a few months ago and we had not even met yet." She realized how that might sound. "I-I'm not trying to pressure you. I just need to be honest."

It was quiet and as the silence stretched on, Cosette found it harder and harder to breathe.

"He really means that much to you?" he asked at last.

"He means more to me than I know how to explain," Cosette said slowly.

Her father looked pained for just a moment before his countenance smoothed out.

Cosette tried to understand it. If he was looking upset then that meant that Marius had to be taken into account when planning their future, right? Or were their plans unchanged and he was merely not pleased that their move would so hurt her. And was any of it because of her falling in love at all? She knew that she was all he had and if she fell in love she might get married and if she got married she would go and live with her husband and…Oh. Maybe that was it.

She stood up and walked over to him.

He passively watched her approach.

She took his hands in hers. "Papa, Marius and I have not really discussed the future aside from a desire to stay in each other's lives indefinitely. I do not know if we will want to get married one day but we have not even begun to consider it. We have had so little time together after so long waiting that we're still just marveling in each other's company. Any future we might have or I might have with someone else is just that: the future."

Happily, her father grows less tense at that.

"If I had to leave then I suppose I will eventually recover but," she swallowed as her voice started to tremble, "it will break my heart."

"I do not want to hurt you," her father said quietly and she could feel the truth of his words.

"I know and I do not want to hurt you, either," Cosette said earnestly. "You have to know that I could never marry someone who could not at least respect your place in my life. When I get married, I want you to come and live with me and my future husband and I won't take no for an answer."

Not that she was thinking of anyone in specific but, while Marius seemed strangely intimidated by her father, she knew that after what had happened to his own father he would never consider refusing her this.

If anything, this made her father look sadder. "That is a sweet thought, my child. I am glad that you do not intend to forget me."

Cosette's eyes widened in shock. "_Forget _you? Papa…I could never!"

He just smiled knowingly.

She didn't know how to reassure him that he wasn't going to lose her just because she was growing up. Maybe there was nothing _to _say and she'd just have to prove it to him as time went by.

"Papa, are you okay?" Cosette asked softly. "I don't tell you this to hurt you."

"You're not hurting me, child," he responded immediately. But she wasn't so sure.

"I asked Marius to come here in," she looked at the clock, "half an hour so that he can meet you."

Her father started at that. "I see."

"I hope that is alright," she said, suddenly feeling a little anxious. This might be the most important introduction she would ever have to make.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "Of course it is. And you are right. If this boy is important to you then I should meet with him."

Cosette's face lit up with hope.

"I can promise you nothing, not even a delay of our journey to England," her father cautioned.

Cosette heard that, absorbed it, and threw herself into his arms anyway.

She was right.

There was hope.

* * *

Jean Valjean was in crisis.

He was grateful that he had time to try and sort through his thoughts before the boy came. He had not wanted to upset Cosette when he still did not know what he was going to do but his world had just been thrown into turmoil.

This morning, things had been so simple. The Thénardiers were hanging around the area and, though he had no proof that they were on his trail, he had come to believe that it was for the best to move as a preventative measure before they _did _stumble upon him. He could just move to another part of the city but with both Javert and Thénardier there, he didn't feel safe. If he went to another part of France then he knew that he would never be able to let his guard down. Since Javert (and Thénardier but mostly Javert) seemed to show up everywhere he went, it was only a matter of time until they found him again.

Now…now there was a boy. Now there was a reason for Cosette to want to stay. And for all that she said that she was not planning out her future, she had seen that boy as a reason to stay and told him about it.

That boy, that boy. He bet that he knew exactly who that boy was, that Marius Pontmercy, that shabby poet from the Luxembourg. He had thought that they had seen the last of him but he had underestimated the strength of his feelings for Cosette. It was stupid of him, really. How could someone with any goodness inside of them at all possibly have prolonged exposure to his Cosette and _not _adore her? And he supposed he should be grateful that if secret rendezvous had to be occurring at least this Marius was nothing like Fantine's once-lover. It was hard to be grateful for these romantic trysts, however.

Pontmercy. That was not a name that suited such a shabby boy but then every life had its own secrets and hardships and who knew what led this boy or this boy's family to end up where they had?

He looked at the clock, watching the minutes ticking by unnaturally fast. Those nineteen years, those several months after Champmathieu, had all passed as though they were moving through molasses and yet now if felt like it had been two minutes since Cosette had told him of Marius' arrive, not twenty.

He wished that they had never left the convent. But that had been because he was afraid of being selfish by denying Cosette the chance to experience the world (even if they did not go out often, it was more than she'd had at the convent) and risking her eventual hate.

He thought he would die if Cosette ever hated him.

And now he was at that point again. Now he could leave (like he could once have stayed) because it was better for _him _no matter what it would mean for Cosette.

The risk of Cosette hating him (though she would be _horrified _if he brought the possibility up to her) was even stronger this time. Before, she might have never noticed what she was missing in such an isolated little community but she could not avoid seeing that he was separating her from her love. And now that Cosette had come right out and told him, he could not ignore it. If he left, he would be knowingly breaking Cosette's heart.

How had this happened? The thought that someone had been hunting them and had succeeded in finding them just wanted to make him flee all the more even if the motive had been love and not upholding the law or blackmail.

Cosette had promised to never forget him. She would inevitably declare that she would never hate him either. He wished that he could be so sure but, even if that were true, it said more about Cosette's innate goodness than about anything that he did. And if Cosette were so good as to forgive him for making her miserable for his own selfish reasons then he would deserve her love less than ever. How could he be happy if he knew that he had destroyed her own happiness?

And if she were happy and settled and married then she would not _need _him anymore for all that she might still want him in her life. But if he was not needed and still being pursued then could he really justify remaining beside her? But no, that was a question for another day. He had not the strength to ponder it now.

There was no point in deciding anything just yet. This Marius character may yet be a rake and so the dilemma would resolve itself. Cosette seemed to believe otherwise but her mother had been similarly mistaken. He would have to meet the man and judge for himself.

The clock said that it was eleven. Half an hour had elapsed. That was not nearly enough time. And yet, he knew – could Cosette have known also? – that if he had been given more time he might have been tempted to take everything and leave before this boy could show up and ruin everything.

There was a hesitant knock and Toussaint soon showed in that selfsame poet, looking a little shabbier than the last time they had met. He looked nervous and Valjean recalled the handkerchief that the boy had so cherished which had actually been his and felt a little more equipped to deal with this.

"Monsieur Fauchelevent," Marius introduced himself, bowing slightly. "My name is Marius Pontmercy."

Valjean nodded his head in turn. "My daughter has told me about you."

Marius attempted a smile but couldn't quite manage it. "She has? And…is that…alright?"

"That would depend entirely on your intentions towards my daughter," Valjean said simply.

A tender look came into Marius' eyes and his hands stopped their slight tremor. "I intend to love your daughter every day for the rest of my life."

That did not sound like a boy who did not have his future planned out though, to be fair, perhaps he and Cosette were not of the same mind. "You have very pure intentions, then."

Marius looked confused. "I do not know what you mean, Monsieur."

Valjean examined his face closely and, to his surprise, he found that this boy truly did not. Oh, it was highly improbable he did not know of sex and perhaps even had partaken in it (though he was far from sure) but the thought of compromising Cosette was quite foreign to him.

That made things infinitely more complicated.

"Please, Monsieur," Marius said, approaching him, the very picture of desperation. "Please, I know that you sail for England and I would gladly follow her but my grandfather and I are estranged and so I have not the money to do so. I cannot bear to be parted from her, Monsieur. It would kill me."

What others might see as mere schoolboy melodrama struck a chord with Valjean. He felt quite the same, after all, so how could he doubt the veracity of this boy's feelings? How could he doubt Cosette's seemingly effortless ability to inspire that sort of devotion in those around her? And how could he possibly force a man that his daughter loved to live without her? He did not think that he was a cruel man.

"We will be leaving for England in the next few days," he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "I will pay to get you the necessary papers to accompany us."

And maybe, maybe in England he could finally live free and unhunted and there would be no need to protect Cosette from anything more.

Marius was looking at Valjean as if he had just performed a miracle. But then, he had allowed him to stay with Cosette so perhaps he had.

"Thank you, Monsieur," Marius practically babbled, an impossibly wide grin stretching across his face. "Thank you. You have saved my life. I will not forget this. I will _never _forget what you have done for me!"

And he did not.

When he had been in such a merry mood he had consented to follow his friends to General Lamarque's funeral and accidentally ended up at a barricade, when that gamin's letter had so frightened Cosette that he had no choice but to go drag Marius through fighting and the sewers and the likes of Javert to safety, when Marius reconciled with his grandfather, when the lengthy recuperation meant that they did not leave France after all, and went Valjean finally confessed his criminal past to Marius, the boy did not forget it.

Most days Valjean was half-convinced that Marius had not even been listening to his confession or, if he was, had promptly repressed it in favor of his gratitude and, if he were being honest, he could not complain. He had warned Marius of what might happen (though after Javert's strange death he rather doubted that anything _would _happen) and so his conscience was clear.

And he had never been more pleased to admit to being wrong than when Cosette had led him to his room in the house of Monsieur Gillenormand and teasingly claimed that this was proof that she had forgotten all about him.

Perhaps Cosette had chosen a man nearly worthy of her after all.

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